


Lazy Sunday Mornings

by bookaddled



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Fingering, Lazy Sex, M/M, Morning Sex, PWP, basically straight porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 19:43:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2080752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookaddled/pseuds/bookaddled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John wakes Sherlock up for some lazy morning sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lazy Sunday Mornings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [astudyinrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astudyinrose/gifts).



> This little ficlet is dedicated to my brilliant and wonderful [Amanda](http://astudyinrose.tumblr.com) to celebrate both her getting into law school and her birthday. 
> 
> Also, thanks go to her for making me a better writer.

John blinked his eyes open, slowly taking in in the midmorning sunlight. He quickly realized that there were two unusual things about this morning. The first was that John was pressed up against Sherlock’s back, arm around his waist and his nose buried in riotous curls. Usually it was the other way around, with Sherlock clinging to John, wrapped around him so tightly that John often felt like he was dating a clingy octopus.

The second unusual occurrence was that Sherlock was still asleep. This wasn’t terribly surprising, considering that they had finished a case in the wee hours of the morning-- a case which had taken them several days to solve. Still, most mornings John either woke up to an already-awake Sherlock, waiting eagerly for him to rise, or an empty bed, as Sherlock had either grown impatient waiting or hadn’t come to bed the previous night at all.

Deciding to take advantage, John nuzzled his nose into Sherlock’s hair, pulling Sherlock closer to him and sighing in contentment. These were the Sunday mornings that John loved best: lazy lie-ins cuddled up next to the man he loved.

Thinking about lazy Sundays made John think about lazy Sunday sex, and he wiggled his morning erection between Sherlock’s arse cheeks. Sherlock sighed, but remained asleep. John smiled to himself, and whispered kisses down Sherlock’s neck and shoulders. His hand caressed up Sherlock’s firm chest, then down his side, sweeping over the jut of Sherlock’s hipbones before settling on his delectable arse. John kneaded and squeezed the cheeks a bit before sliding his hand down to Sherlock’s hole. Surprisingly-- or maybe not so surprisingly, as it had only been a few hours since John had last fucked him-- Sherlock’s areshole was still slightly slick and open.

He smiled lazily as he remembered them fumbling up the stairs, adrenaline still pumping through their veins, desperate to get each other naked and feel each other’s skin. Sherlock had shoved John against the door once they had finally made it into the flat, snogging him senseless before dropping to his knees and giving John a blow job so good, his knees had nearly given out. John had pulled Sherlock off just before he came, pushing him into their bedroom. He had fucked Sherlock so hard that he was certain they woke Mrs. Hudson up with their cries, but he honestly couldn’t be arsed to care.

John shifted as quietly as he could and rolled over to grab the lube off of the side table. Normally he would let Sherlock sleep for as long as he needed, but this case had gone on for days and John felt like they needed to make up for lost time. Besides, he was fairly confident that Sherlock would not mind being disturbed from his sleep as long as it was for sex. Especially lazy morning sex.

John clicked open the lid to the lube, slicking two of his fingers and sliding them easily into Sherlock. He marvelled at the heat and velvety feeling of Sherlock’s arsehole before he started fucking him with his fingers, sliding them in and out while scissoring his fingers to stretch him out.

Sherlock somehow remained dead to the world in his usual post-case coma, though he started whimpering and softly rocking his hips. It wasn’t until John gently nudged Sherlock’s prostate that Sherlock moaned loudly, eyes fluttering open.

“Oh, god. John,” he moaned, consciously thrusting back onto John’s hand. “I thought I was dreaming.”

John slid in a third finger as he purred into Sherlock’s ear, “No, it’s quite real.”

Sherlock turned his head and groaned into his pillow, his thrusts growing more and more erratic. “More,” he growled, though it came out sounding almost like a whine. “I need more, John!”

John needed no other encouragement. He quickly poured some lube onto his cock, smearing it all over with his hand before lining up with Sherlock’s hole, both of them still on their sides. He grabbed Sherlock’s hip and pressed inwards until Sherlock’s inner ring of muscles gave, allowing him into his hot, tight depths. He pushed until he was completely seated in Sherlock, enjoying the feeling of Sherlock clenching around him before he started to move. He wrapped his arm around Sherlock's waist, reaching for his beautiful cock, and biting into his shoulder. He started slowly rolling his hips, mimicking the languid pace he had set earlier with his fingers and revelling in the exquisite feeling of being inside Sherlock.

Sherlock made the most beautiful sounds while John lazily stroked his cock, whimpering and moaning a symphony. John loved it when he could reduce Sherlock down to nothing but sounds and need. Sherlock reached his hand back and clung to John's arse, thrusting back into John more and more frantically, and suddenly slow and languid wasn't enough anymore.

In one swift motion, John grabbed Sherlock’s hips, rolling him over and pulling him up to his knees. His hands fit right over the bruises that were just starting to bloom from the night before as he adjusted Sherlock’s hips, trying to find the right angle to hit Sherlock’s prostate. Completely pliant under John’s hands, Sherlock buried his face in his pillow and moaned loudly. John continued to pound into Sherlock at that angle, his thrusts growing more and more frantic the louder Sherlock’s moans get. When John started to feel Sherlock tighten around his cock, he leaned over, planting his right hand next to Sherlock’s elbow and wrapping his left hand around Sherlock’s leaking cock.

Sherlock’s hips bucked wildly, seemingly torn between thrusting into John’s hand and pushing back onto John’s cock. John bit down on Sherlock’s shoulder to muffle his own moans, and suddenly Sherlock cried out, his orgasm ripping through him as his come pulsed over John’s hand. Sherlock’s cry shivered down John’s spine, and after two more thrusts, he came as well, shouting Sherlock’s name.

John collapsed on top of Sherlock, gasping for air. When his heart beat finally slowed down to a moderately normal speed, he kissed the back of Sherlock’s neck and slowly slid out. He heard Sherlock hiss below him, and planted another kiss between Sherlock’s shoulder blades.

“Good morning, love,” he mouthed against Sherlock’s skin.

Sherlock turned over, eyes heavy lidded with a combination of satiated lust and sleepiness. He smiled softly at John, snuggling up to his side. After kissing John right above his heart, he lay his head down on John’s shoulder, nuzzling his nose along John’s neck.

“Mmm. Good morning,” he rumbled, and John felt his voice, deeper than normal from sleep, vibrate throughout his chest. “Thank you for waking me up for lazy Sunday sex.”

John chucked softly. “Believe me, it was my pleasure.”

Sherlock yawned, his eyes fluttering shut. John smiled, curling himself around Sherlock and pulling him closer. He pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s forehead, and settled his cheek atop his curls.

“Go back to sleep, love. You may need your strength for later.”

A ghost of a smile twitched Sherlock’s lips before he fell back asleep, John not far after him.

****  
  



End file.
